Kept Woman/Chapter 15
Hubert and Lillian both arose briskly when the alarm went off at eight o'clock. Lillian put on a kimono and went to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for Hubert. He took a cold shower and dressed in the meanwhile. He had never taken a cold shower before in his life, but this morning it seemed the properly efficient thing to do. He ate his breakfast hurriedly and concentrated deeply on his plans. Lillian did not disturb his thoughts. She silently provided him with a second cup of coffee and solemnly kissed him good-by. She thought of saying "Good luck" to him as he went out but rejected the idea as ridiculous. To wish him luck was to question his importance and his ability.
Hubert found himself at the wheel of the Packard by ten minutes of nine. He felt very businesslike and keen. The one thing that disturbed him was that he didn't know where to go. Where did one begin when one was looking for a highly paid executive position?
He thought the situation all over and decided he was out too early. It was well known that prominent business men never get to their offices early. Well, he'd ride along and decide just where he was going.
He rode along admiring the early morning and breathing the air gleefully, and before he knew it he was in his own suburban town. Well, he'd go home and change his clothes. A man was judged by his appearance.
Helen was having her breakfast. She sent Nellie to ask him if he would like some coffee. He thought that was very sweet of Helen, but he declined, saying he was in a great hurry. Nellie disappeared, returning a minute later to say that Mrs. Scott wanted to see him.
He went to the dining-room. Helen gazed up at him and inquired, "What's the matter? No telephones where you've been?"
"Gee, Helen, if you knew what I've been through. Steve Flynn's kept me on the jump every minute."
"You couldn't have spared five minutes last night to see if I wanted the car?"
"Well, I'm here early, ain't I? What more do you want? I couldn't get to a phone last night; so I broke my neck getting up here this morning to see if you needed the car."
"Why didn't you phone instead of riding all the way up here?"
"You don't want the car today, do you?"
"Yes. You don't seem to be busy; so you might as well take me up to Stamford."
"But I am rather busy, Helen, to tell you the truth."
"Well, go about your business then and leave the car here. You can use the trains for today."
She spread a golden square of toast with marmalade and helped herself to another cup of coffee from the percolator beside her. It was built like a samovar and was, of course, electrically operated. A Christmas gift from her friend, Mrs. Winters.
Hubert stood watching her and wondering what he should do. If he drove Helen to Stamford there was a whole day wasted. If he went looking for a job on foot he would look broke, and that was a handicap to a fellow who wanted a good job. He decided that he might just as well drive Helen to Stamford. That way he would be sure to have the car at the end of the day.
She sat in the back and kept her eyes closed throughout the ride. Once or twice he looked at her in the mirror and thought she looked quite old. Funny hat she had on. It was black felt and cut in queer-looking wings over the ears. Her white hair looked kind of pretty peeking out at the sides. Once she opened her eyes and spoke to him. "Stop at a florist's," she said.
When he found one he stopped and Helen bought some early spring flowers and laid them beside her in the back of the car.
"Your friend up here sick?" he asked her.
It was funny to speak of Wilma Lawrence as though he didn't know her name. She had been Helen's bridesmaid at their wedding. By pretending to be completely unaware of her existence he was able to forget that she had never thought him good enough for Helen.
"She has been ill in bed for over two years now," Helen told him.
"Oh, gee, that's tough," he said.
Now he would really have to go with Helen to make the call. He really ought to do it. After all, when a person's awfully sick old scores ought to be wiped out. Gee, Helen should have told him sooner that Wilma was ill. He'd have visited her before with Helen if he had known. He remembered that Wilma had been a great one for horses and golf and things like that. Gee, two years in bed. He'd forget anything he had against her right now and go with Helen right to her bedside and give her the old cheer-up stuff.
But at the door of Wilma's house Helen said to him, "I'll be ready to go back in about two hours." And Hubert went into the town of Stamford to kill two hours' time.
He had a sandwich and a cup of coffee. Then he telephoned Lillian to say that he would not be with her for dinner. He thought he might just as well have dinner home tonight. He hadn't seen his son in a long while.
"How is everything?" Lillian asked him.
"Fine. I'm in Stamford now, talking over a proposition with a fellow."
Might as well tell her something pleasant. No use of her worrying about things. When he finished talking to her he bought a newspaper and went back to the car.
Helen, as it later turned out, was not having dinner at home. Neither was young Hubert. Helen said he was entirely welcome to stay if he didn't mind being alone. He didn't stay.
He took a ride over to see the McKay Brothers. Arch McKay was in Canada, he was informed. Bert was over at his mother's house. Hubert went to find Bert.
Bert was having dinner, but Hubert was allowed to sit on a dainty-legged gold chair in the parlor and wait for him. The McKay family nest was an old-fashioned frame house with at least two dozen rooms. Hubert could not hear a sound from the far-off dining-room. He stared at the onyx clock on the mantelpiece and wondered where Helen was having dinner. Maybe right next door for all he knew. Silly to be so unaware of his own wife's doings. For all he knew—but no, not Helen. She didn't have enough life in her for that sort of thing.
Presently Bert McKay came to join him in the parlor. Bert was big and pleasant. He shook hands heartily and boomed questions at his guest. How was he? How were tricks? What was he doing? How were Mrs. Scott and the boy?
Hubert said that he and the family were fine and that he just dropped in to see how everything was going with his old friend Bert.
"Are you working at anything?" Bert asked.
"No. Why?"
"I just wondered. It just doesn't seem possible to me that a fellow could be satisfied doing nothing all day long."
"Well, to tell you the truth, Bert, I've had enough of it. I am going to do a little something if I hear of a job that I like."
Bert nodded. "Sure, a fellow can't feel right, just laying around."
"I don't suppose there's anything over at the old place for me."
Bert laughed and Hubert laughed with him. "No," said Bert. "There's no job around that place for a guy that's used to taking it easy."
"That's right," said Hubert. "It used to keep me on the go."
"No offense meant, Hubert, but it's busier now than it used to be. Arch is a wonder. He's worked himself to a frazzle over the place. I made him go away for a little rest."
"Running it all alone while he's gone? Want me to help you out?"
"Thanks, but this is a big family, you know. My two kid brothers are helping me."
"Oh," said Hubert. "Well, I just thought I'd drop in and see how things were going with you."
"Thanks, I'm glad you did. Come in again."
"I will, thanks. Good night, Bert."
"Good night, Scott."
Hubert was hungry and he didn't feel that he ought to spend money on a restaurant right now. Of course he'd get something to do in no time, but it gave him a funny turn when Bert McKay hadn't jumped at the chance to get him on a salary. Of course Bert was the younger brother and probably didn't have much say in the matter and probably no brains at all. Too bad Arch hadn't been there. Arch would have known what having Hubert Scott around would do for his business.
He went home and found Lillian frying bacon and eggs for dinner. She was alone and still in her kimono.
"Oh, I didn't expect you," she said. "Didn't you say you wouldn't come home for dinner?"
"Yes, but I changed my mind. The guy got around to talking terms before dinner; so I left him flat. Five thousand dollars a year he wanted to give me. Can you imagine that?"
"Well, don't you think it would have been all right to take it just for a while?"
"No, I'm not going to get people in the habit of thinking I'm a five-thousand-dollar-a-year man. He'll come around as soon as he sees I'm no sap. He don't worry me none."
Lillian fried bacon and eggs for Hubert and they sat down to dinner. "Say," she said, "you know what I was thinking today? When you was figuring you had rent and enough for food and all for next month you forgot the cars. That's fifty dollars for the garage, Hubert. You simply have to get rid of those cars. We can't afford to keep them and you'd get around two thousand dollars, wouldn't you, for the two of them? Even more, maybe, and that would keep us swell till something turned up that you'd like to take."
Hubert said, "We got to have cars."
"Well, we could get other ones when things started breaking right again, couldn't we? It wouldn't hurt us to walk or use trains and trolleys for a while. We're both too fat."
"We got to have cars," Hubert repeated.
"Well, how are you going to meet the garage bill?"
"He'll let me run it for a month. He knows I'm a responsible party. By that time I'll be all set."
"I'd get rid of the Packard if I were you. We could run around in the roadster. That Packard is more expensive to run. Besides it isn't so new, and when things pick up we could knock every one dead with a new one."
"Listen, Lil, I wouldn't get rid of the Packard. I'll tell you why: A guy's got to look like somebody if he wants people to think he is somebody. I can't afford to sack the Packard, see? It's my mark of prosperity. Like that guy I approached today about a job. He was impressed with me. He figured I wasn't down and out because I had the Packard. See what I mean?"
"But he didn't offer you much money," Lillian pointed out.
"Say, five thousand isn't so little. Do you know there are guys who figure themselves made when they struggle up to that amount? I'm turning it down because I don't think it's enough for me, but don't get the idea that it isn't much."
Lillian felt properly squelched. She drank her coffee in silence and began immediately on the dishes. Hubert went to the bedroom and got into his bathrobe and slippers. Anna had invited them over to her apartment for the evening, but Hubert had forgotten, and Lillian, seeing that he was tired, did not remind him. He fell asleep on the couch and when the Sullivans came over to see what had delayed Lillian and Hubert he did not awaken.
"I think Louise and Billy will be over," Anna said. "They'll want to tell you the news."
"Louise is going to have a baby, I suppose," Lillian said.
"No, this is good news. I oughtn't to tell you, though. They'll want to tell you themselves."
"Maybe it's just as well that you don't tell me, then," Lillian said.
"Billy's got a pay job on the radio," Anna said. "He's going to advertise Gittner's self-service dress shop. A half-hour once a week. He's going to get a lot of money for it, I guess."
"He can't get more than twenty-five dollars for it," Cliff said.
"Oh, go on," Anna protested. "I heard that the Happiness Boys get five hundred dollars every time they broadcast."
"Well, for God's sake, Anna, Billy isn't the Happiness Boys, is he? And Gittner's isn't the Happiness Candy chain, and Billy isn't going to be on a first-class station."
"I don't care," Anna said. "He's going to get more than twenty-five dollars for it, because Louise says she's going to get a lot of new clothes."
"Maybe he gets a discount at Gittner's," Cliff suggested.
"Wait till Billy gets here," Lillian said. "We'll hear all about it then."
Billy lived up to Lillian's expectations and they heard all about it. Hubert was awakened to hear the news.
"I'm going to call myself Billy Fisher, see? I can't get any cute name for myself that goes in with ladies' clothes or else I'd sound like a nance. But I got a raft of good ideas. I'm going to use 'Yes, sir, that's my baby' for a signing-off song. I'll change the words, see? I'll make it about my girl friend who wears Gittner's dresses and always looks like she's got Lady Duff-Gordon lashed to the mast. I'll change the song when I get a better idea, but this all come so sudden."
"What are they paying you, Billy?" Cliff asked.
"Jees, you got a nerve."
"Well, I was just interested, that's all."
"You wait a little while, brother, and you'll be reading in the newspapers what they're paying me."
Cliff retired to a corner. Lillian and Hubert had meant to congratulate Billy on his success, but it was impossible to get a word in.
Louise didn't try to talk. She just beamed on her spouse and seemed well content to bask in his reflected glory. Anna said later that Louise was lucky she had nailed Billy when she had, as she would have had a fat chance now. Louise's smug satisfaction suggested that she was thinking the same thing.
The Fishers didn't stay late. Billy had to be up early in the morning, combing through the music publishers' late hits.
"How about the paint business?" Lillian asked.
"Say, I'll clean up on that, too. I'm going to stick at it a while yet, of course, and I bet I'll sell oceans of paint when I tell the poor boobs that I'm a radio entertainer with a regular commercial program on the air. You know, they'll get asking me questions about the studio and what Graham MacNamee is like, and before you know it I'll be writing them up for a million dollars' worth of my old Brush-Alac."
Cliff laughed. "Say, Billy, when you get to see Graham MacNamee outside of the Pathé News I'll have you to dinner in my Park Avenue apartment."
"Oh, is that so? You'll remember you said that this time next year."
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Cliff.
Hubert and Lillian were alone at last and they promptly retired. Hubert said he had to be out early again in the morning. Lillian set the clock and left her kimono where she could snatch it readily.
It was teeming rain when they awakened to the clock's jangle. Lillian turned off the alarm and went to the window.
"It's pouring," she said.
"Is it? That's tough."
"Are you going out?"
"Certainly. Man's work can't be postponed on account of a little rain."
She went to the kitchen and put the percolator on the burner. She heard no sound from Hubert, and just before she dropped the eggs into boiling water she returned to investigate. It seemed that after all man's work could be postponed. Hubert was sound asleep. The covers were half off him, giving the impression that his intentions had been noble, but sleep had overtaken him in the midst of them.
Lillian gently tucked the covers about him and left him undisturbed. She returned to the kitchen and turned off the gas beneath the coffee and the egg water. Then she crept back to bed herself. What was the use of him going out and getting drenched? He'd get sick and then what would become of them? She was glad that sleep had kept him from faring forth in the rain, but, she reflected, he would probably be as mad as a hornet when he awakened and found what she had done.
It was noon when they awakened again. Hubert was very angry at Lillian and asked her if that was the sort of thing she would do when he had a responsible position. It was too late now, thanks to her, for him to go searching for any opportunities today; so she might just as well get the checkerboard. They played checkers till dinner-time and went out to dinner in a table d'hôte restaurant on Dyckman Street. Afterward they went to the movies. Hubert was of the opinion that saving pennies made you think you were broke and then you looked broke and then all was lost. It sounded like a good argument to Lillian. She wasn't concerned anyway. If things got really troublesome Hubert would certainly sell the cars. After all, he wasn't a damn fool. Two thousand dollars would be a tidy sum to go ahead on. So there was really nothing to worry about.
When Lillian set the clock that night she set it for nine. Hubert, after thinking the matter over well, decided that getting around to see people early would make him look like a cheap job-hunter. Ten or so was a nice hour to start looking people up.
The only difficulty was that he didn't know who to look up. He had rather planned in his innermost mind on the McKay Brothers. Too bad Arch hadn't been there. He ought to have asked Bert when Arch was expected back. Well, he'd go again in a week or so. But by then he'd probably be connected with something else.
He spent the next day at the club. It was the second time he'd been inside the place since he had met Lillian. It was a nice place to be, too. Lots of good fellows, good beer, good conversation. His day passed buttonholing one member after another and confessing to him that he was bored with a life of leisure. Each listener said that he didn't blame him and agreed that it must be tiresome.
"Got anything that I could do over at your place? I'll go nuts if I don't get something to do." Hubert laughed as he spoke. He didn't want a fellow member to think that he really needed work.
Nobody had an opening for him.
"Well, if you hear of anything," Hubert would suggest carelessly to each. They would nod and hurry away.
He stayed at the club till after ten o'clock. He went back to Lillian then. It had been a good day. He had informed many men that he was open for offers and they in turn would inform their friends. Hubert figured that thus some three dozen men would be told that he was ready to return to the business world. He decided not to go forth again for a few days. His might look like a desperately needy case if he haunted the club or the offices of his friends. Besides, those men who had been told of his desire to once more assume responsibilities would be telling people about him, and that was enough.
While Hubert was concealing his need for work, the first of the month came around and with it the dapper rent collector.
Hubert paid him and announced that the apartment would be vacant by the next first.
The young gentleman smiled and reminded Hubert of his lease.
"Never mind that bunk," stormed Hubert. "I'll not live in any place where the janitor argues all day with the tenants and makes the place sound like an East Side tenement. Besides, my wife hasn't known a well day since we've lived here. The heat is bad and everything else."
The young man made a deprecating gesture with eloquent hands. "It's not my fault," he said. "I just thought maybe you forgot the lease. I'll tell the landlord. It's his business, not mine."
"They'll sue us," Lillian said as Hubert closed the door.
"I'd beat the case in any court in the country. Why, the service here has been terrible. No heat after ten o'clock at night or anything."
"That's the time that heat goes down in all apartments. You were foolish; you should have gone to see the landlord and told him that you met with business troubles."
"Why should I do that? What's it his business what I met with? I'm damned if I'll go ask favors of him."
"All right. Suit yourself."
Hubert went to the garage then. He had received the bill in his morning mail and had to have a little talk with the fellow. He entered the garage, wearing his genial smile, and went to the office at once.
"Say, let this bill go a month, will you? I'm a wee bit strapped for cash."
"We don't usually do that, Mr. Cory."
"Of course not. I don't usually ask you to either. If I meant to gyp you I'd park the cars here till you yelled and then I'd take them both out and let you go fish for your money. I'm being straight with you."
"Well—"
"If you don't want to, all right. Those new garages down by the river are giving a month's concession. I'll put my cars there."
"I guess you're all right. Leave them here."
"Don't guess. I don't want you to be watching me all month as though I was trying to put something over on you."
"It's all right, Mr. Cory. You won't run away."
"Damn right, I won't," said Hubert. "All your customers should be like me; then you wouldn't have to worry."
Lillian began at once to look for a new apartment. First she tried houses that were as new but not as grand as the one she had grown used to. After all, a new house cannot be utterly unpleasant. The rents frightened her. Even two rooms and kitchenette were fifty in some places and fifty-five in others.
She consulted Hubert after strolling through Inwood and regarding apartments both inside and out.
"How much can we pay?" she asked.
"Well, I think we ought to be able to get something for forty dollars," he answered.
"Hubert, don't you remember Anna couldn't get anything for forty?"
"Sure she could have if she wanted. She just happened to like that forty-five-dollar one, though."
"We won't get in a new house for forty dollars."
"Well, who cares about a new house?"
"That's right," said Lillian. "After all it won't be for long."
"Of course not."
Remembering that it wouldn't be for long, keeping firmly in her mind that thought, Lillian went out next day again to hunt for a new home. Inwood's slum row. Gray houses with dirty window panes and screeching janitresses. After all, it wouldn't be for long—
"Have you a vacancy? Two rooms and kitchenette."
The apartment faced the street. The sun shone in one room. But what a small room! The walls were painted a bilious yellow and the woodwork was a dark brown. There were no outlets here. Just a chandelier that hung disconsolately from the ceiling. The kitchenette was in a closet, a small, rusty black stove, a sink, and one shelf for dishes. The ice-box was in the hall. The bathroom was dark and small. No shower. The bedroom was a box with a window and a closet.
"How much?" asked Lillian.
"Thirty-five dollars."
Well, it wouldn't be for long. Hubert would be surprised, too, that she had been able to get an apartment so cheap. Of course if it was going to be an indefinite stay she couldn't bear it. But for a month or two what difference did it make?
"I'll take it," said Lillian.
The janitress looked out the window at the trim, clean little roadster. "You'll take it?" she said.
"Yes, from the first of next month."
The janitress shook her head. "No," she said, "I got to have some one take it from the fifteenth of this month. I got to have half a month's rent in for this month."
"But my rent's already paid for this month where I am."
"Sorry." The janitress shook her head, and her eyes beneath the frill on her dust cap watched Lillian's face anxiously. "I'll see what I can do," she said after a moment. "I'll call up the landlord."
The apartment was on the third floor and as Lillian followed the janitress down the three flights of stairs she found herself wishing that the landlord would not consider waiting till the first. The stairs were fearfully dirty, and the commingled odors of cooking foods that filled the halls sickened her. But it wouldn't be for long. Oh, blessed thought.
The janitress described Lillian as a nice lady when she spoke to the landlord. She sold him the idea of waiting till the first so that he could have her nice lady for a tenant.
"That will be all right," the janitress said brightly as she hung up the receiver. "Could you let me have ten dollars deposit?"
Lillian got a receipt signed Mrs. J. Svensen in exchange for her ten dollars. She found upon gaining the street that several of the children of the gray row of houses were disporting themselves in the roadster. She was very angry and experienced a desire to bang their heads together, but she only smiled at them and said, "I need the car now." No use in making them sore. They'd probably scratch the cars all up if they took a dislike to her.
The garden court had never before looked so peaceful and lovely as it looked to her that afternoon. She gazed at it with stricken eyes and had to reason with herself to keep from feeling low. After all, this was just another angle of being a kept woman. Gee, you couldn't always be on the crest of the wave. The kind of life she had picked for herself was one of ups and downs. More ups, of course, than downs, but this was the test of whether she was big enough for the job or not. After all, when you were used to nice things it took courage to be one of Mrs. Svensen's tenants.
Her living-room seemed beautiful to her as she looked at it. Gosh, she'd never really appreciated it before. Oh, well, when Hubert got the kind of job he was after they'd get a place that was even nicer than this one. She'd like it all the better, too, for having lived in a dump for a while.
And maybe she wouldn't have to move at all. Maybe Hubert would connect with something good before the first of the month and they'd let Mrs. Svensen keep their ten dollars and the bilious little apartment. Gee, Hubert would look funny in those tiny rooms. He was so big. The furniture would look funny, too. Like a well-dressed lady slumming.
But the furniture didn't look funny in the dingy little apartment. For the pink satin chair was soiled and torn in a few places, the rugs had cigarette burns, the Windsor chairs were wobbly and loose, the three-piece suit was stained and scratched.
On that first day in their new home Hubert took a look around, then buried his face in Lillian's shoulder. "God, Lillian," he said, "this is terrible."
She caught her short upper lip between her teeth and bit it hard. Then she said, "Sure, it's terrible. Wait till we get the pictures up. It'll look better then."
She shook herself free of him and ran for a hammer.
It wouldn't be for long. Oh, God, it couldn't be for long!